


The Mark

by Alex_Jay2000



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal, Anal Sex, Bottom Draco Malfoy, Face-Fucking, First Time Blow Jobs, M/M, Magical Pregnancy, Power Bottom Draco Malfoy, Pregnancy, Pregnant Draco Malfoy, Pregnant Sex, Rope Bondage, Rough Sex, Table Sex, Top Harry, Unplanned Pregnancy, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:15:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25144543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alex_Jay2000/pseuds/Alex_Jay2000
Summary: House arrest is ending, and Draco finally has a chance to be free. Or he would be, if it weren't for the bite mark keeping him chained to a life of isolation.When Harry Potter shows up offering a life line, it seems almost too good to be true.Can Draco ever find happiness when everything comes crashing down around him?
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 15
Kudos: 241





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> If you've read the tags and still want in, you will not be disappointed.

Draco scratched at the blotches on his arm, trying not to think about them.

They were itching worse than normal - a stubborn, constant itch just beneath the surface of his skin.

The mark had faded to nothing more than a scar, but Draco could still see it. Trace the outline of it with his fingers. Feel the little dips where Fenrir Greyback's teeth had ripped into him.

A knock at the front doors jolted him out of his daydream, head snapping to the door of the sitting room.

He waited as his mother went to the doors, heels clicking on freshly polished floors.

"Hello, Auror-"

Aurors. What did they want this time?

They hadn't left the grounds. Hadn't used any magic - even accidental magic. They hadn't had any visitors in months, no deliveries outside of Draco's usual potions, not even a house-elf had left or returned.

"Draco," his mother said from the doorway, "there's an auror here to see us."

She stepped into the room, signalling for the Auror to sit on the sofa opposite Draco.

Potter. Of course, it would be Potter.

At least he had the sense to look anything other than smug.

"Hello," he said gently. "I'm glad you agreed to let me in."

Let him in? As long as he was wearing those stupid red robes he could come and go whenever he bloody well-liked.

"Would you like any tea, Auror Potter?" His mother offers, ready to call a house elf.

"No thank you. I won't be staying long." He turned to Draco, a strange look in his eye, before getting down to business. "As you're aware, the two of you have been under house arrest for almost two years. You'll be released in 32 days, as agreed when the sentence was first put in place."

Merlin, Draco wished he'd get to the point.

"Well, we've decided to offer a gesture of goodwill. After everything you did, I wanted to give these back to you." Potter reached into a pocket of his robes, pulling two wands out, and placing them on the coffee table between them. "I know it's not much, but I've cleared it that you can use your wands from now on. We will be monitoring the use, but when we take the wards off the grounds, we'll do the same for your wands."

Draco could feel his mother tense up beside him as she reached for her wand, holding it lightly.

"I never expected to see this wand again," she murmured, casting a quick lumos. It burned bright. She smiled.

"Thank you. Thank you so much."

Potter grinned, eyes flicking down to his hands.

"You would have gotten them back next month anyway, but I thought you'd like them back as soon as possible. I also have this for Draco."

Draco's eyes snapped up at the use of his given name, focusing on the way Potter's hand disappeared into his robes. When it emerged with a sheaf of parchment, he was distinctly disappointed.

"This is a list of contacts and changes in the law surrounding lycanthropy." Draco flinched. Why should Potter know? "A lot has changed, and the Lycanthropy Department has ordered that everyone should be given this pack to help them-"

"Lycanthropy Department? Is that some kind of joke?"

Potter's eyes fixed on him, unwavering. "No. A lot of people pushed for a lot of changes after the war. There's a team that deals with all the legal stuff, so if anyone refuses to hire you or commits a crime against you because of your condition, you can contact them. The medical team are researching the physical effects on the body, and they work with a group of potion brewers to send out Wolfsbane and any other potions needed."

Draco sat back, sighing. The itching was getting worse, but Draco ignored it.

"I suppose they're the ones sending me potions? How do you know they're not poisoning me?"

"I've been overseeing every batch made for you," Potter said simply. "We had one incident where they found out who they were supplying and tried to change it. I make sure that doesn't happen anymore. Nobody in the brewing team knows who they're brewing for. It could be a five-year-old girl or Greyback for all they know. They make it, I check it and seal it, then an owl takes each parcel wherever it needs to go."

That makes me feel so much better, Draco thought, hoping Potter could sense his sarcasm.

"Anyway, I just wanted to drop these things off. If either of you has any questions about Draco's condition, just floo one of these people," he taps the parchment, now resting next to Draco's wand. "Your floo is open to call any of them, any time you want."

"Thank you. I'll see you out," Draco's mother says, leading Potter out of the sitting room.

Draco picks up his wand, feeling the current flow through it.

He stands, silently walking out towards the entrance hall.

"-possible. I've written to every potions master, nobody will take him on."

"I know someone. Give me some time-"

They're organising a job for him. Without his input. 

Draco strode out into the hall. Potter's head turned to look at him, eyeing the wand in his hand.

"I- thank you, Potter." He said, holding a hand out.

Potter took it.

"I was just saying to your mum that we've got some brewing positions opening at the Ministry. I'll get someone to owl you about it."

"That would be very- very good."

"Okay. I'll see both of you next month."

***

Draco stayed up half the night, twirling his wand around his fingers. He had his wand back.

Potter had given his wand back.

And what had he said? It's because of what they'd done.

Talk.

Stood on trial and told everyone what had happened - what they'd been made to do. His mother had offered up memories of meetings, of begging for her son to be spared the torture of joining.

Nobody had mentioned the bite.

Draco didn't know how Potter had found out, but he was determined to learn.

Merlin's saggy tits, his bite hurt. Every inch of him ached, pain curling in the pit of his stomach.

It had already been days since the full moon, yet everything still hurt.

***

True to his word, Draco had an owl arrive the next morning.

A small note from a witch stating he'd been recommended for their potions team, and asking if he'd mind receiving a floo call to check his experience.

She'd called later that afternoon. A kind, thoughtful face that asked him questions that pushed his memory. She must have approved his answers, or been captured by his questions since she offered him a trial day.

"Trial day?"

"Yes," she'd answered, nodding through the flames. "You can come to the Ministry and see what we do. It should let you see if this is a place you would want to work, and we can test you a little more to know if we want to offer you a job. How does the third sound?"

No. No, that didn't sound very good at all. Not the day after the full moon. Not to mention his house arrest...

"I'm not sure I can make the third. How about the fifth?"

"The fifth sounds wonderful. If you floo in at two, I'll meet you at the floo bays."

***

"What are you doing here?"

Potter was at the breakfast table, a piece of toast on his plate, drinking tea out of Draco's favourite mug.

"I got here a little early. Your mum offered me breakfast."

"Mother!" Draco called, whirling round to look for her.

He wasn't even dressed properly! The T-shirt he'd slept in and a pair of comfy pyjama bottoms hardly constituted proper dress.

"This is really lovely jam," Potter said, using a spoon to scoop more of it onto his toast.

"That's my cherry jam!"

"Draco, Dear, let him have some." His mother had appeared from the direction of the kitchens, carrying a pot of coffee. "Come eat your breakfast Dear."

Draco sat down in his favourite seat - the one opposite Potter - and poured himself a cup of coffee.

"What are you doing here?"

"Its the day. I'm here to take the wards down and end your house arrest. Did you say this jam is cherry?"

"Made with the cherry trees in the grounds," his mother explained, setting herself a bowl of fruit. "Draco has a job at the Ministry now, thanks to you."

"Its a trial day," Draco insisted.

"That's great," Potter said, ignoring Draco. "What time are you going?"

"Around two."

"That's no time to see the whole Department! I'll take you with me when I leave here, give you a tour of where you'd be working."

"Potter-"

"Oh, isn't that a lovely suggestion? Perhaps it would be best, being eager can never harm an application."

"You are absolutely right, Mrs Malfoy."

"Please, Harry, I've told you. Call me Narcissa."

"Mother!" 

"Dear, how about you have something to eat and go get dressed? I hardly think that an appropriate outfit for having guests over."

Draco was furious. How dare Potter come into his home, eat his jam, and make him feel like he wasn't allowed to wear his own bloody pyjamas at his own bloody breakfast table.

He stood, storming towards the staircase.

"Your coffee, Dear."

Draco whipped around, storming back to the table, picking up his mug and the pot of coffee, before turning and heading straight back to his room.

Bloody Potter.

***

Draco would not be made a fool of again.

He was dressed in his best robes - dark grey, shining in the right light - paired with charcoal trousers and a perfectly tailored waistcoat. 

They were making his skin itch all over, and the sick feeling in his gut wasn't going away, but he had to keep going. It had faded after his last transformation. Okay, it took a week and a bit, but it all died down. He just had to wait a week this time.

"Potter," he greeted, walking down the stairs to see the auror in the entrance hall.

"Draco," Potter smiled up to him, wand in hand. "Ready to have the last of the tracking spells removed?"

Draco was not about to let him call him by his given name. And he absolutely refused to admit he liked the way it sounded.

"Let's get on with it. The sooner you start, the sooner I can get on with my life."

He reached the bottom step, striding over to stand before Potter.

"Wand," Draco handed over his wand, feeling his heart constrict at the feeling. Potter waved his own wand over it, murmuring a spell, before handing it back. "Try a spell."

Draco quickly summoned a nearby vase of flowers, watching with bated breath as Potter cast another spell.

"Well, I can only see the spell you used at... two-thirty" this morning. Looks like everything's removed."

"The wards?"

"Taken down. Of course, yours are still up. But the ones tracking all owls and foot traffic have all been taken down. No more watching your every move. Although they do want me to remind you not to commit any crimes, or the higher-ups are probably going to demand you be sent to Azkaban for the rest of your life."

"And you, Potter? What would you do?"

"Call you an idiot and try to cover your arse again. Come on, let's get you down the Ministry. Lots of people want to meet you."

"Do they also want to hex me?"

"Come on," Potter insisted, heading towards the floo.

***

Draco had been certain he'd be hexed or cursed the moment he stepped out of the floo, but everyone seemed to ignore him. They bustled past, some talking in small groups, others nose-deep in books and letters.

Potter had taken him by the elbow, steering him through the crowd. He'd nodded at the people on the desk, not bothering to stop as they walked straight past. Veering him through the corridors, past the elevators, deep into the heart of the Ministry.

"Where are you taking me, Potter?" Draco asked, suddenly worried he'd been walked straight into a trap.

"We've got a secret entrance. Not everyone's great about the Department, so we kept things on a need to know basis."

Potter finally steered him into an empty corridor, then into a small alcove. He tapped his wand against one of the tiles in the wall, whispering a password.

Draco watched as the tiles filed back, opening a tiny arch into a new room. He followed Potter in, marvelling at the space.

It was big, white, and flooded with natural light. On two of the walls were magical windows - one showing a golden beach lined with palm trees, the other showing a vineyard. Desks were scattered around the office, piled high with paperwork. Boards speckled the space, covered in notes and papers, occasionally turned to a witch or wizard to add some new piece of information.

To the back of the room, there were two arches - tall, broad, made of silver. Beyond one, Draco could make out hospital beds and witches in medical garb, potion benches and ingredient racks through the other.

"One of those is where you'd work, the potions lab. They mostly make Wolfsbane, but they're working on some other things, too. I'll admit not much makes sense to me, but they're trying to make transformations easier and less painful. I'm sure they'll explain it to you."

"Harry," a voice came from amid the desks. Draco watched as Granger pushed her way through, clutching a stack of papers. "We've just had a report of an attack on a known lycanthropy safe-house. Are you free?"

Potter cast a glance at Draco, brows knitting together. "No, I'm not. I think Ron and the recruits are in the office, they should be able to help."

Granger nodded, finally seeing Draco stood there. Her back straightened, mouth setting in a straight line.

"Granger," he greeted, nodding. He knew she may not like him, but if he got a job in the potions lab, he might very well be on neutral terms with her.

"Malfoy. Harry said someone was coming for the job. I didn't realise he meant you." She cast a glance at Potter, eyes narrowed. "I hope we'll be able to work together without any... repeats of the past."

"I assure you I will do my very best to avoid any repeats of that behaviour."

"Right," she said, clutching her papers a little tighter. "I'll see you later, Harry."

She hurried past them, out of the hidden area.

"So, this is the legal area?" Draco asked, eyeing the array of desks. There had to be at least fifty, spread out across the room.

"Yeah. We've expanded the team three times since we started last year."

"We?"

"I- may have headed the initiative with Hermione. We started just wanting to reverse some of the laws Umbridge put in, but it spiralled. More people came on board than we thought, and within six months we'd started sending free potions to anyone who signed up."

"I was getting my potions straight after my trial."

"Yeah," Potter admits, scratching the back of his neck. "I organized it after Hermione pointed out your behaviour. They said you didn't have the Dark Mark, and she figured out the only other option. I figured you might have trouble getting hold of any potions on your own."

Draco nodded, refusing to thank Potter for his help.

"It all seems very... functional. You said there were some changes in the law, thanks to this lot?"

"Yeah," Potter beamed, finally leading Draco around the edge of the room towards the lab. "We wanted a way to protect people. I mean, it's not anyone's fault they're bitten. It happens, and then they get their entire life turned upside down because nobody will hire them, people won't rent them housing, and the old laws basically labelled them criminals because of their condition. We changed that. Now it's illegal to deny housing or employment because of lycanthropy, it's illegal to ask someone if they have lycanthropy when hiring them, and gives anyone with lycanthropy access to Ministry brewed potions."

Draco hummed, watching as Potter gestured to different desks as he talked.

"Over there are the guys who take on complaints against employers and housing. Anyone can write to them to make a complaint, they investigate, and if they find the law's been broken, one of us aurors press charges. Over here is Laura - she's amazing. She's been putting together a team to enforce safety for children inflicted with lycanthropy. We're hoping to expand the initiative to a protection service for all children within the next year or two. And over there-"

***

Draco shivered, cursing under his breath.

He'd been doing so well.

The whole morning in the potions lab had been fun - the witches and wizards in there had all welcomed him, testing his knowledge and sharing gossip about the legal and auror teams.

"Potter's been moody ever since he got drunk and broke it off with that bloke on the third floor." One girl had said, giggling over the idea. "Can you imagine being dumped by Potter?"

Draco had paused for a moment, caught up on a detail.

"Potter was seeing a guy?"

"Yeah. Wait, didn't you read the papers? Just after the trials, he broke it off with Weasley's sister and told everyone he was gay."

"I tried to avoid the papers, around that time."

"Oh. Well, he's definitely gay. You should speak to Deana, she knows all the stories of his bad dates-"

If only it had been a day of talking about Potter's failure of a dating life. No, his itching had left his clawing skin from his arms, his stomach felt like it was burning, and he'd nearly fainted just after he'd finished his lunch.

Of course, they'd all overreacted. Someone had gone running off, coming back with a medical witch and Potter, panting and asking him where he hurt.

He'd been sat in Potter's office ever since, curled over and whimpering in pain. Not from the itching or the cramping in his gut. No, he was in pain because he was hard - had been for well over an hour now - and he couldn't explain it.

"Draco?" Potter's voice broke through, closer than he was comfortable with.

"Go away, Potter."

"What is it? Did you hit your side when you fell?" Potter's hands were suddenly pressing against his sides where Draco's own hands were clenching. Potter's touches were soft and gentle, tracing over his sides as he searched for injuries.

"I- no," Draco manages. It's hot. So hot he feels sweat beading across his forehead.

"Draco, look at me, please. What's wrong?"

"It's probably nothing. Just leave me be."

Lies. Draco knows he's lying, somewhere deep down in his mind. Feels the clawing desperation of his condition rising in his throat.

"Draco, you're not okay. Let me get you home, yeah?"

"I can't. I- I can't move."

Draco opens his eyes to stare at his knees, pulling his arms tighter around him. Potter's hands are on his shoulders, kneeling in front of him, trying to pull him up.

"This is your condition, right? I remember Remus having a reaction like this after one of his changes. Come on," he's pulling at Draco's shoulders again, "I'd rather get you to one of our safe houses than risk something here."

"Safe-"

"Yeah, somewhere a werewolf can go when they have nowhere else. Please, let me get you to one of them."

Draco nods, grasping Potter by his robes and forcing himself out of his chair.

"Come on," Potter says again, looping an arm around his waist to support him. Draco watches as he swishing his wand at the room, bag and coat flying towards them and onto his shoulder.

"I won't make it to the floo bay," Draco whispers, trying to take a calming breath. Instead, all he can smell - all he can scent - is Potter. It's thick and cloying, filled with holly wood and lemon.

"There's a private one hidden just round here," Potter answers, steering him out of the office and through thin, twisting halls. "Safespace."

Fire rushed around them, tugging at Draco's stomach, pulling them through the network.

They fell out onto a plush carpet, breathing heavily, one on top of the other.

Draco feels Potter breathing against his neck, forearms holding him barely above Draco's back. Draco breathes in again, scenting the new space. It's all new carpets and fresh wood. And Potter.

Everything is Potter.

Draco's mind blanks out, coming back from his wolf as he straddles Potter's waist on the carpet. He doesn't know how they ended up there, but Draco's hands are on Potter's chest, twisting his nipples through his shirt. Draco doesn't want to move.

"You back?" Potter asks, hands squeezing Draco's hips. He's grinning, wide and toothy, eyes blown wide.

Draco nods, mind racing to catch up with himself, suddenly flipped onto his back. Potter's above him, bold lines and beautiful, curving features melding into something Draco's desperate to mess up. 

"Draco, I need to leave. You're being affected by your condition, and I'm not doing anything with you if you're not entirely with me."

Draco's hands are still on his pecs, fingers working in lazy circles. "Please?" He asks, letting his wolf beg for what it wants.

"Draco-" Potter whines, lunging into a kiss.


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco realises he's... changing. Not the wolf kind of change. A different change.
> 
> He's afraid, desperate, and very pissed at the git who keeps making him feel this way.

Draco's body aches when he awakes, cushioned by soft pillows and silk sheets. Every inch of him aches - much like after a transformation - but this time there's something else mixed with the ache. A pleasant rush, humming just beneath his skin, honing in on his mark.

An arm tightens over his waist, tucking him back into solid muscles and a hard cock.

His eyes fly open, head tossed over his shoulder, staring at a sleeping Potter.

Merlin, he'd let himself get fucked by Potter.

He shifted, trying to put space between himself and the other man, somehow escaping the suffocating grip.

Stumbling out of bed, searching the room for- for something. His mind raced to find an answer, but none came. Just the dark, thrilling bliss running under his skin.

"Draco?"

Draco runs - down the stairs, grabbing the few clothes he can find, praying his Mother isn't in the drawing-room - and throws himself through the floo.

***

Draco's mother hadn't been in the drawing-room. After throwing on what he'd been able to grab - underwear, shirt, trousers - he crept through the Manor. She wasn't even in the Manor.

Draco went to his rooms to change, then to the kitchens for food. The elves had all scattered at the sight of him, rushing to prepare a meal.

"We dids not know Master Draco would be home today! Master Draco has been away so many days!"

"What day is it?" Draco asked, feeling his stomach drop.

"It is the Tuesday, Master Draco!"

Tuesday. Draco had gone to try out for a job on Wednesday.

It'd been a week.

Merlin, it'd been a week.

Draco quickly grabbed the food he was offered - a platter of sandwiches and a pot of coffee - and retreated to his rooms.

He didn't leave for three days, despite his mother's pleas. Instead, it was her informing him Potter was downstairs that drew him out.

"What are you doing here?" He spits, glaring at Potter. Potter, who was just as big and bold as always, wearing large purple hickeys just above the collar of his robes. 

"I wanted to make sure you were alright," he says, eyes raking down Draco's body. The nerve! He'd attacked him - because Draco certainly wasn't trusting the scant memories of begging - and now he was here asking if Draco was alright!

"Harry here wrote to me when you were away," his mother began, ignoring the snarl he sent at Potter. "He explained your condition had flared. Draco, you should have told me things were changing."

"They're not," he ground out, forcing himself into his seat at the table.

"What did you say it was, Harry?"

"The medics think it's something to do with the wolf part of the anatomy. After a certain period of time - they think it's about two or three years - it starts to change. Instead of only coming to the mind at the full moon, it stays alive for a week or so afterwards. We've spoken to some people who were bitten when they were kids, or just a long time ago, and they say it takes over in a different way a week after the full moon."

"He doesn't- he didn't transform, did he?" His mother asks, putting down her teacup and staring at Draco.

"No, no he only does that on a full moon. This is more like the wolf taking over his mind, and fulfilling it's basic needs if they're not being met. One girl - she's quite sweet actually - is anorexic. When it takes over, it just eats loads. Takes over for a whole week and just eats everything her body needs."

"And Draco was just... eating?" Draco tries to ignore his mother pushing the plate of biscuits towards him. Just to prove a point he snatches up a custard cream, stuffing it into his mouth.

"No, his is different. But he- well he gets violent when that need is denied. That's why I think it's best he spends his full moons and the week after in one of our safe houses, just to make sure nothing bad happens."

Draco could kill Potter. It's typical that he'd try and force him into leaving his home. And he's doing it in a way he won't be able to resist - by making his mother ask.

"Narcissa, I know you love him. That's obvious. But he needs to be somewhere he can't accidentally hurt you. We have specialists who can check on him - they're all excellent at defensive magic, so he couldn't hurt them if he tried. It should settle down over a few months, but for now, we can't know how or when it will happen."

His mother was frowning, watching him, eyes glistening.

"I think it's for the best. Don't you, Draco?"

***

"It increases fertility rates!" A medical witch cries, rushing into the potions lab.

"What?" Draco asks, lifting his safety goggles to take a good look at her. She was young - probably the same age as Draco - waving around a small slip of parchment.

"Lycanthropy in the new advancing stage causes an increase in fertility rates. We have a young woman at the moment who couldn't have children - tried for years, got told she had such low rates it was impossible - but now she can! Her rates have tripled over her last two changes. This could change everything."

"Indeed," an older brewer stated, moving to stand beside Draco. "Births have always been low, but we lost so many young ones in the wars. If this condition can bring one blessing to this world, it just might be a better chance for us to raise the numbers."

"No, that's not the exciting part." The medical witch continued, rushing to the other side of Draco's work station. More brewers moved in beside him, crowding his station to hear the news. "We think it could make it possible for male births."

"Male births?" One witch asked, pursing her lips. "Impossible."

"Not impossible," Draco intercepts. He knows this. His father told him stories when he was younger. "It's been nearly 500 years since the last wizard birthed a child, but it is possible. Back in the times when our numbers were just a few thousand, every birth was crucial. Powerful wizards - pureblood wizards - could have a child if their magic was strong enough to sustain a second life."

The young witch was nodding vigorous, ponytail of blonde hair bouncing on her head.

"Imagine if we had a male pregnancy in our research group. It could change everything. Nobody in living memory - alchemists aside - has seen a day when a wizard had a child. Can you imagine the information we could gain from an in-depth study of a pregnant male wizard?"

"First, you'll have to be lucky enough to find a gay male wizard inflicted with lycanthropy in an active sexual relationship, where both wizards are powerful enough to make pregnancy possible."

"Oh," the young witch sighed, looking down at her sheaf of parchment. "I suppose the odds are quite unlikely."

"Not as unlikely as lycanthropy triggering male pregnancy," Draco chips in, pushing someone to the side to grab the tray of wolfsbane.

"Draco has a point," another witch adds. "If any of us had bet on lycanthropy making male pregnancy possible, we'd have been able to afford Malfoy Manor."

Drops of laughter rose out of the huddled group. Draco tuned them out as he diced ingredients, vaguely aware of the conversation of implications.

Something was tugging at his gut - not illness, but a feeling. A feeling of unnameable dread.

***

Three days after his next transformation, Draco floo'd one of the medical witches, asking her to come to the safe house.

It was warm and cosy. Plush sofas, oak kitchen, glass tables. Draco had, of course, transformed most of it to his own liking.

She came over in a heartbeat, carrying a bag of medical supplies, asking what was wrong.

"The conversation a few weeks ago - male pregnancy - it got me thinking. I'm - well, I'm a candidate. We can see if it's possible with me. I'm pureblood, I have lycanthropy, and I've not long passed my third year."

She nodded, lips in a tight line, staring at him.

"Are you saying there's a chance you might already be pregnant?"

"I- well. I don't know. Maybe."

"Okay," she nodded, rolling up her sleeves and fishing her wand from her hair. "Lay down on the sofa, nice and still. I'm going to examine you, okay?"

***

Imminent.

That was the word the witch had used - imminent.

She had said the word somewhere among a great torrent of words, initiated by the tip of her wand glowing a dull grey over Draco's abdomen.

"Yes, you're definitely developing the equipment," he caught as she rifled through her bag, pulling out nausea potions and a thick book. "You'll want to read this, then have a long hard think. I've written down the incarnations you'll need as well."

It has all been about magical pregnancies - the how, the expectations, the signs that something might be going wrong. Then there had been the incarnations. The one to tell if there was a fertile womb. The one to tell if the pregnancy had been achieved. The one to tell how far along.

It had all spun Draco's mind, giving him an awful headache and prompting him to nap for the rest of the afternoon.

A few days later, when Draco had finally managed to cast the spell correctly, a blinding white light had erupted from his wand.

Potter had shown up that afternoon, carrying a box of pain and nausea potions. A peace offering.

Only Draco's mind didn't go to peace. It went with his eyes, straight to Potter's cock beneath his robes.

He smelt much the same as last time - holly wood and lemons. And sex.

Draco had growled, low and deep in his throat, pulling Potter to him by his robes and ripping them in an attempt to get to his belt.

Potter smelt of sex - of his own cum - snapping something dark and possessive in his mind.

While his hands worked on Potter's belt, Draco busied himself leaving bites and bruises as far up Potter's neck as he could reach.

Potter didn't argue - didn't even fight. Just held Draco's head in his hands, rocking his hips into the air.

Draco pushed him onto the floor, laying him out nice and pretty on his back.

Something warm and slick was... well it was leaking out of somewhere unspeakable. Draco could hear his wolf in his mind, begging for Potter's cock to push through the slick.

Draco's mind, half-delirious, agreed.

It was all too fast - pulling his own trousers down just enough, pulling Potter's half-hard cock out of his pants, sinking onto it in one long, smooth downward stroke.

"Fuck!" Potter cried, bruises blossoming where his hands latched to Draco's hips.

***

Draco woke three days later, grateful for the warm, solid pillow beneath him.

The pillow bumped its hips upwards, rocking into Draco's arse, jolting him into the land of the living.

"What the fuck are you doing, Potter?"

He'd meant to spit the words at him, but his voice was rough and sleepy, and he was rather worried it came out sounding fond.

"You," Potter murmured in his ear, rolling them so they were on their sides.

They were on the sofa, Draco's face pushed into the back cushions, his gut twisting with each tiny bump of Potter's hips.

"Get out of my-" he managed, overcome by a moan, arching his back.

"I can't," Potter replied, holding his hips in place while trying to pull out.

Draco could feel it - feel some tiny part of him clenched around the head of Potter's cock, holding him there.

"What the fuck, Potter?" Panic was bubbling in his chest, catching his breath and clenching his gut.

"I don't know, but you're not allowed to panic, because then I'll panic. It went away every time the last few days, so it'll go away again today."

Draco wishes he had the strength to punch Potter, but somehow the knowledge that his body had done this before reassured him - brought him down from a dangerous place and let him be peaceful.

He wants to hate it. Wants to despise every second. But he can't.

For the first time, he feels it - feels the building pleasure every time Potter rocks into him, the lightning shooting through his skin wherever Potter touches. The sound of Potter breathy moans, crooning in his ear, whispering filthy encouragements with every stroke.

"So fucking good," he whispers, lips meeting Draco's neck, hand coming to tug at his cock. "So fucking sweet."

Draco can barely breathe for the pleasure of it. His lungs burn, face pressed further into the sofa's cushions, but he loves it.

He loves it. Loves this silent moment with this beautiful man.

It feels impossible. 

Oceans crashing, filling, swirling around in the pit of his stomach where this wonderful something builds. Every thought, every feeling, everything in his entire being focusing on this one thought.

He loves it.

He loves him.

"Fuck," he murmurs, sending a silent prayer for this moment to never end.

Only it does, exploding into something so wonderful he wonders if its something from one of his mother's tales of perfect moments.

Everything crashes around him, sending him toppling over the edge of an unseen waterfall, crying out as it plunges him under the water.

He's in love.

The realisation is startling, forcing the air out of his lungs in one fell swoop.

He's in love. With- with him.

It can't be happening. He can't let it happen.

All those years - the years of hating, screaming, crying to get over the sting of rejection. If he loves him, then those years are wasted. They fall away into a swimming pool of regret, already overflowing with the blood and tears of war, drowning in the void of history.

He can't let go of his hate, no matter how hard the love is pushing into his soul.

"You need to leave," he manages to force out, turning away from the warmth of love - of him.

***

Draco curses, letting his anger swell as the tiny light at the end of his wand turns blue.

He refuses to accept that maybe - just maybe - Potter had managed to get him pregnant. The first wizarding pregnancy in 500 years and the poor bastard has to have Potter for a parent.

His next trip into work begins in the medical room, reclined in a chair with a witch fussing over him. He's thankful she's put up privacy screens around him, blocking out the sights and noise of the rest of the world going on with their normal lives.

She's talking about potion regimes, healthy eating, regular exercise. All the thing a loving, willing parent would want to hear.

Draco isn't a willing parent.

He's an experiment trapped in the body of a man, ridiculed by society, barely recovering from decades of hate crumbling into something warm and inviting.

"Now, Draco, I do need to ask. Is- Is the other father going to be involved? Only if he is, he'll need to be informed of all your new potions."

"No," Draco answers, staring through a gap in the protective screens. Potter is standing at one of the legal desks, laughing with Granger and some other witch, grin wide and bright and beautiful. "No, he won't."

"Well then, I'll give you these." She taps a stack of parchments and books, balancing on an empty stool. "And I want you to track everything. Everything. What you eat, any exercise, any sexual activity-" Draco splutters, completely ignored by the witch, "- and of course the measurements around your waist. Any changes in emotions, any changes to your transformations. If it's not normal, I want it written down."

Draco vaguely feels himself nodding, wondering if he could get away with disappearing. He won't be able to hide it forever.


	3. Part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What is this? An update? Unbelievable.
> 
> As you have probably noticed, the world has gone to shit. At this point I wouldn't be surprised if zombies sprung up and took over. 
> 
> I said I wouldn't let it affect my writing schedule, but the real world demanded I go to work and actually earn money, so that happened.
> 
> I'm hoping to get the fourth and final part of The Mark up sometime this week, then I've got a week off dedicated to writing. That is the current plan, but as anyone who follows this channel knows, every time I make a plan it falls apart.

Turns out Draco can hide it.

His mother knows - she knew the second he came home, hiding the books and parchments in his robes. If there was one thing Draco was grateful for, it was not having to have that conversation with his mother.

She must have guessed who the other one was as well, since she never asked, never mentioned his name. On the few times he visited, she came up with excuses of illness, decorating or trips out, closing the door in his face.

Or perhaps she knew Draco too well to think he would ever be willing to talk about it.

The Ministry had tasked him with home brewing, experimenting with new ways to make potions kinder on the drinker.

It was a fun task, taking up long days and nights, letting him ignore the way his stomach swelled.

Of course, he couldn't always hide it. It was there; when he looked in the mirror, when he got dressed, when he showered.

That strange slick sensation was there, too. On those odd occasions when he let himself wrap a hand around his cock it came, rushing out of him, begging him to push his fingers inside. It was glorious, letting him get four fingers inside with no sign of pain. He couldn't reach the part that lit his nerve endings on fire, but a bit of experimentation sorted that out.

And a rather filthy magazine, from which he ordered several large, curving dildos.

He could only hope his mother didn't know about those.

It was quiet. Aside from the house-elves leaving him tea and sandwiches, he was left alone in his tiny lab. Even his mother knew better than to disturb him.

"Darling?"

Apparently, his mother hadn't gotten the message to leave him in peace.

"What?" He snapped, eyes never leaving the cauldron in front of him.

The door opened, a figure stepping in and closing it behind them.

Draco ignored them. He was nearly finished with a new nausea potion, and he wasn't going to let his mother distract him from it.

"What do you want? I have my tea and everything, look." Draco waved a hand towards the corner in the table, piled high with sandwiches and ginger tea.

The figure didn't speak, instead, it was treading carefully as it walked around Draco's back to look at the potions.

"You shouldn't worry, it's all quite safe. Nothing at risk of exploding."

There was heat at his back - wide and warm and definitely not his mother.

His breath hitched, a spark of fear racing down his spine. Without thinking his hand went to his stomach - barely swollen over the last 5 months, but its there. It's obvious.

Vulnerable.

Large, rough hands spread across his waist, hips bumping into his arse as lips met his shoulder.

He breathed in, lungs filling with lemon.

"Potter?"

The body behind him hummed, pressing itself flush against his back.

"Potter, this is highly inappropriate."

Potter hummed again, hands slipping under his loose T-shirt to rest on the swell of his stomach.

Draco knew he should be pushing Potter away, but that treacherous little part of him was yearning for the attention.

"Turn around for me?" Potter asked, kissing just behind Draco's ear. Merlin, he wished he didn't want to.

Slowly, hands still grasping the work table, Draco obeyed.

Potter was looking at him, eyes taking all of him in, hands splayed on his stomach.

"You're-"

"Yes," Draco bites out, straightening his back. Potter dips his head to Draco's neck, placing a faint kiss there, before kneeling and placing another kiss to his belly button. 

"Take it off?" He asks, tugging at the edge of his T-shirt. Draco feels himself nod, pulling the top off. Potter sits back on his heels to stare for a moment, taking in the gentle swell, before leaning forwards to litter kisses over his skin.

Draco couldn't help but smile down at the sight - dark, beautiful lips brushing against his skin, hands working their way over his arse.

The slick feeling was back, running out of him, into his underwear. Thick, wonderous fingers followed the sensation, dipping through the slick and rubbing at Draco's hole.

"Can I suck you?" Potter asked, growling out the words.

Draco wanted to fight. Wanted to curse Potter out for the very suggestion. Merlin, if only Potter's fingers, rubbing gentle circles into his rim, weren't sending sparks straight to his cock.

"Yes," he moaned, arching back as Potter kisses him through his trousers.

His trousers worked their way down to his ankles, Potter pulled away to remove his glasses, then he was back.

Then it was all wet heat, rippling around him as Potter swallowed.

If there was one thing Draco hoped he'd never live without, it was that sensation. The filthy sounds of Potter licking and sucking like his life depended on it, one hand holding Draco's hips in place, the other resting over his hole.

"You better- fuck! Potter, you better not be thinking of doing that while I'm-"

"I am," came the reply when Potter pulled off, grinning up at Draco as two beautiful fingers slipped inside. His mouth moved to cover Draco's stomach in tiny, torturous kisses.

Draco was shaking. Every inch of him was shaking.

He couldn't quite place the feeling that bubbled up whenever Potter's lips met his skin, but he knew the sparks of lust his fingers caused well enough.

It was driving him mad.

"Potter, I very much doubt that... that sex is a good idea when I'm-"

"I think it's a brilliant idea," Potter replied. He was looking up at Draco, grinning, when he added, "sit on the table for me?"

Draco was certain, above all else, that Potter was definitely driving him mad. Not because he was enjoying it, or because he was on the verge of begging Potter to simply fuck him. No, this was much, much stranger.

He wanted Potter to fucking kiss him.

He really had to be going round the twist.

"Why would I want to do that?"

"I can do you against the table if you'd prefer, but I was thinking you could lie down all nice and pretty while I fuck you senseless."

Oh, that certainly sounds appealing.

Just the thought of having Potter above him was enough to make Draco's knees go weak.

Draco tore his gaze from Potter, glancing round to find an empty table. They were all full, covered in couldrons or papers or ingredients.

He saw Potter wave his hand, jaw dropping as the table next to them was wiped clean of its contents. Bundles of ingredients and stacks of brewing instructions flew into the air, smashing against the door.

"Potter!" Draco cried as he was lifted- quite effortlessly - from the floor into Potter's arms, before being placed on the table.

Potter was grinning at him, moving him so his arse was barely on the table.

"You need to lie down for me."

Draco shivered at the thought, carefully lowering himself onto his back. He could feel Potter's eyes on him as his head dropped over the other end of the table. Predatory.

"Potter," his voice shook as he raised his head to meet Potter's gaze. "How do you feel about fucking my face?"

It was crazy. Absolutely fucking crazy. No sane person could possibly want something as depraved as this.

Potter was frozen. Staring, cogs working in his mind as they jolted to life.

"You want me to-?" Potter swallowed, soothing a cracked voice. He closed his eyes, pressing the heels of his hands into them, before looking down at Draco. "You're sure."

No. Draco wasn't sure. He didn't even know where such a vile thought came from.

That was a lie. It very clearly came from one of those magazines Draco had bought. The ones he ordered his... toys through.

He nodded.

He didn't know what he was doing, but by Merlin he wanted it.

Potter moved round the table until he was stood by Draco's head, broad furrowing as he looked down at the blond.

"You're really sure?"

"Merlin, Potter, get your cock over here." Draco reached out, grabbing Potter by the hips and moving him where he wanted him.

He let his head fall back off the table, throat stretching as he moved Potter's hips - Potter's cock - towards his mouth.

"Fuck," Potter whimpered as Draco's tongue finally - finally - licked a filthy stripe over the head of his cock.

"Will you fuck my mouth?" Draco asks, breath fanning over Potter's cock.

This is what he wants. This is exactly what he needs. Like this he can control Potter - make him bend to every whim.

Plus it's hot as fuck and Draco knows, somewhere in his mind, that he could come undone just by sucking on Potter's beautiful cock.

"No," Potter whispers, hands resting on Draco's shoulders for leverage.

No. No.

Why the fuck would Potter say no?

"Potter," Draco tries again.

"No, I'm not doing that."

"What the fuck did you expect? Did you think you'd just stand there and I'd magically be able to blow you? I can hardly move like this, so you're going to have to do all the hard work."

Potter clearly didn't like the sound of it.

"Potter, I need you to understand something. I want you in my mouth. I'll control the speed, but you're the one who needs to move. Got it?"

Potter frowned at him, mind whirring over the idea, before grasping the base of his cock.

"What if you want me to stop?"

Draco wasn't sure he would ever want to stop. He could already imagine what it would be like, having Potter's cock bruising his throat.

"Then I'll hex you."

Potter seemed to accept this, yielding to Draco's hands and letting himself be guided into position.

Draco pulled on Potter's hips, bringing his cock close enough that he could wrap his lips around the head.

Potter bucked forwards, cock sliding into Draco's mouth, hot and heavy against his tongue.

Draco closed his eyes, banishing tears as his lips stretched around Potter.

This was the first cock he'd ever sucked - plastic ones not included - and he was determined not to fuck it up.

He'd spent an unusual amount of time reading magazines and books all about this - about getting off in every conceivable way - and getting his mouth fucked had sent Draco down a rabbit hole of exploration and masturbation.

His dildo collection - all very carefully hidden beneath his bed - included one very special one he used to practice this exact act.

Only he had full control of that dildo. He didn't have control over Potter.

Potter eased his hips forwards, pushing his cock in until his balls were resting against Draco's nose. He definitely hadn't considered those.

Potter shifted his hips back, pulling his cock out of Draco's mouth, hands clutching Draco's shoulders.

Merlin, Draco thought. He's actually going to fuck my mouth.

Draco was moaning before he knew it, logic abandoning him as he dug nails into Potter's perfect hips and sucked as hard as he could with every thrust.

Potter groaned as he moved, swiping at Draco's hands in a vain attempt to take complete control.

"Incarcerous," Potter mumbled, grinning as thick ropes wrapped themselves around Draco's body, pinning his arms to the table. Only his head, hanging off one end of the table, and his legs, hanging off the other, were free of ropes.

Panic crept up Draco's throat, digging into his skin wherever the ropes touched him.

Potter drew back, letting his cock fall from Draco's mouth.

"Can I fuck you?"

Draco wanted to tell him to fuck off, to get the ropes off him and leave him in peace.

But the slick was still pouring out of him, leaving him feeling horribly empty, and something inside him knew toys wouldn't be enough to sate the feeling.

"Please," Draco begged, wrists twisting to escape the ropes - to pull Potter close and get him where he wanted him.

Potter grinned down at him - wide and dangerous and hungry - as he moved around the table to push at Draco's thighs. 

"Draco," he breathed out, eyes wandering over every inch of him. "Can I take you?"

Yes, cried the voice in Draco's mind.

He wanted it. More than anything in his life, he wanted it.

Mark me, the voice begged.

Potter moved forward, cock slipping straight into Draco, leaning over him until lips and teeth met flesh.

Draco screamed as Potter's teeth dug into the crook of his neck, clamping down and sucking as his hips started to move.

Potter's hands came to rest on the swell of Draco's stomach as he fucked into him, careful fingers contrasting the violent jerk of his hips and savage clamping teeth.

Draco loved it.

Somehow, just beneath the surface of his skin, a crackling fire lit up with every push of Potter's hips.

"Keep screaming for me."

He didn't realise he was making a noise until Potter brought his lips to Draco's ear, words dragging across his skin.

"Keep screaming for me."

He did. He had no choice. Every inch of him was begging for this man to wreck him. Every instinct crooning at the gentle touches to his stomach, the tongue lavishing over the wound on his neck.

Your new mark, the voice inside reminded him. You're his.

"You're mine," Potter confirmed, drawing back until he was standing, hands cupping his arse so he could lift him into the perfect place.

Potter struck gold, hitting that perfect spot so hard Draco went toppling over the edge in a heartbeat.

A scream tore up Draco's throat just as he was taking a deep, levity-fuelled breath. 

It hit Draco in three perfect little bundles, in time with the last furious thrusts of Potter's hips.

Potter, werewolf or not, was the definition of an Alpha.

Potter was his Alpha.

Potter was fucking him on his brewing table, in the middle of the Manor, while he was pregnant.

Fuck, Draco thinks just as Potter growls, thrusting in one more time as he comes, filling the blond so completely that he can't bear the idea of being left empty.

Potter pulls out, cock still twitching, staring at where his cum was leaking from Draco's arse. He seemed transfixed, tongue darting out to wet dried lips as he watched.

Green eyes darted up to meet grey, binding spell dismissed with a wave of a hand, before Potter was dragging Draco across the table, forcing him to sit where Potter's cum was pooling.

Before he could argue, Potter silenced him with a kiss, parting his lips and playing with him until Draco had to force him away for breath.

"Potter," he whispered, hands clutching at broad shoulders. It took Draco a moment - several moments - to come back to his senses. "You're a fucking nightmare."

"Call me Harry."

"No."

"Draco," the sound sent shivers down his spine, "stop playing hard to get. You're already having my baby."

Draco yelped, nails digging into Potter's shoulders as he was pulled closer. Potter descended to sniff at the crook of his neck, trailing soft kissed up to his ear.

"Potter, this is- this- I can't even say it. None of this was meant to happen."

"You haven't stopped it."

"You tied me to the fucking table!" Draco cried, trying to push Potter away.

He moved, pulling back to stare into Draco's eyes. "Draco, I definitely didn't tie you up the first time. Or for the last few months. You couldn't have stopped this."

Draco stilled as he felt Potter's hands on the swell of his stomach, anger coursing through his veins and spilling from his eyes.

"You bastard! You think I would- I could? Fuck!"

"Draco that's not- I didn't mean-" Potter lowers his head, gritting his teeth. "I mean you had to have known it was possible the second time, and still decided it- we - were a good idea."

"We?" Draco spits, punching Potter in the shoulder. He stumbled back, giving Draco the space to stand up. "All I remember is my fucking wolf taking over my brain the second it saw you. You knew what happened and you still went to the safe house. Did you enjoy taking advantage of me that much?"

"Draco-"

"No! I don't give a shit, but you are not doing this. You are not going to go anywhere near me again. You are not going to have anything to do with this baby. You are not going to call me Draco! Now get the fuck out of my house!"

Draco didn't wait to hear what Potter responded with - didn't even pause to see the look on his face. He simply whirled on his heel and ran all the way to his room, slamming doors and sobbing as he went.


End file.
